


I've Got Your Back

by BatmanWhoLaughss



Series: Kanera Prompts [3]
Category: Star Wars - All Media Types, Star Wars: A New Dawn - John Jackson Miller, Star Wars: Rebellion Era - All Media Types, Star Wars: Rebels
Genre: Attempted Sexual Assault, Bar Room Brawl, F/M, Fluff, Fluff and Hurt/Comfort, Hera Syndulla Needs A Hug, Post-Star Wars: A New Dawn, Pre-Star Wars: Rebels, Prompt Fic, Slurs, Tumblr Prompt, Twi'leks (Star Wars), kanan decks a scumbag, to give you some serotonin
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-07-29
Updated: 2020-07-29
Packaged: 2021-03-05 20:55:29
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,382
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/25581700
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/BatmanWhoLaughss/pseuds/BatmanWhoLaughss
Summary: Tumblr prompt fromthis list#24: Things you said with clenched fists----They stand up, making their way to the cantina’s exit. Kanan tosses a few credits on their table to pay for the drinks, and he’s still on edge as they walk past the bar.Almost there. Punching these guys would beutterlysatisfying, but he’s following Hera’s lead. He has a feeling starting a fight would qualify as “doing something stupid.”Then, one of the men puts hishands on her, and all bets are off.
Relationships: Kanan Jarrus/Hera Syndulla
Series: Kanera Prompts [3]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1845700
Comments: 9
Kudos: 101





	I've Got Your Back

**Author's Note:**

> These prompts are unbelievably fun to write, and there was really only one clear direction to go with this one. Kanan will never hesitate to punch a scumbag for Hera, and I will die on this hill!!!! 
> 
> I hope you like it :)

This isn’t the seediest cantina Kanan has ever been to, but it’s probably close. 

They’re on some backwater moon in the Outer Rim, waiting to meet one of Hera’s contacts. Kanan is no stranger to these types of places; he’s done enough drinking in shady bars throughout the galaxy that they all start to look the same after a while. But it’s been a long time since he’s found himself in a dive like this, long enough that he’s feeling a little less at home.

Hera sits across the table from him, sipping at her drink and subtly scanning their surroundings. She’s tense, he can tell. Her shoulders are stiff and her lekku are rigid; they’re signs that most people wouldn’t pick up on. But Kanan isn’t most people. 

They’ve been travelling together for almost 3 years now, and they’ve been sleeping together for a few months. It still thrills him to think about; he’s been attracted to her since he first laid eyes on her on Gorse. But the fact that she  _ finally _ trusts him enough to cross that line with him, to let him into her bed and into her heart in a way he’s only ever dreamed about, still amazes him. 

He cracks his neck, sipping his Corellian ale and mirroring Hera’s subtle sweep around the bar. He feels a small prickle at the back of his neck as he finds the chrono on the wall. Their contact is an hour late, and when he jerks his head towards the chrono, Hera notices it too. She sighs, a punched out groan of agitation, and Kanan can’t help but reach out and grab her hand. 

They used to play things up, when they went to places like this. Sometimes, it helped; if people assumed Hera was with him , they would usually leave them alone to conduct their shady affairs in peace. Other times, they came in separately, Kanan subtly keeping watch while Hera met the contact alone. They fell into step seamlessly, adapting to whatever the situation required with ease.

Now, though, when Kanan holds her hand, running his thumb across the back of it as his eyes send a wordless apology, he enjoys the fact that it’s  _ real _ , that they don’t have to play-act. He can  _ mean _ it, when he wraps an arm around her to show that she’s spoken for. It feels nice, in a way that’s still slightly unsettling for him.

They wait around for another hour. Neither one of them is really drinking; Hera set ground rules for these sorts of missions a  _ long _ time ago, soon after he first came on board. They’re just shooting the breeze, talking about nothing while Hera gradually inches closer to him in the small booth they’re occupying. The cantina’s relatively empty except for a few drifters at the bar. They’ve been steadily getting louder as the bartender keeps their drinks coming, but they haven’t made trouble yet. Kanan’s got one eye on them, an old habit from his own drifter days.  _ Focus on the most likely point of origin for an attack.  _

Finally, Hera groans. “This is a bust. They stood me up.” 

Kanan shrugs. “Not the first time.” Then he smiles at her. “There are worse ways to spend an evening.” She flushes, elbowing him, and warmth rushes straight to his core. 

They’re just about to get up and leave, when one of the men at the bar turns and spots them. Kanan can see it, right in his eyeline, as the human elbows his friend, gesturing at their booth. Kanan tenses, and Hera raises an eyebrow at him as she feels his hand grip hers tighter. 

Before she can ask him what’s wrong, he hears the man’s voice, loud and clear. “Hey you!” Hera turns towards the sound, raising an eyebrow, but Kanan just tenses up a bit more. It’s a gut reaction-  _ make yourself invisible _ . 

He loses hope that the man  _ isn’t _ talking to them when he yells again. “Hey, human in the booth!”  _ Fuck.  _ Well, there’s no getting out of it now. Hera tenses up too, but Kanan squeezes her hand. He hardly suspects these guys are Imperials, and he doesn’t recognize them. He bumps her shoulder with his– a wordless signal that means  _ play it cool.  _

“Hey, how much for an hour with your tail-head?” He feels something collide with the back of his head, and looking down at the floor, he sees that it’s a credit chip.

_ That _ makes him freeze, going rigid as anger surges through him. He’s heard men hurl insults at Hera before, and it never fails to stir something like righteous indignation in him. He knows she can take care of herself, sometimes even witnessed  _ her _ throwing a punch or two in a bar fight. But Hera is… Hera’s  _ everything _ , and he’ll never stop wanting to hit every sleemo in the galaxy who treats her like she’s less. 

She’s trying to keep her face blank, but he can see the frustration, fury, and barely-there hurt in her eyes. And now he’s even  _ angrier,  _ because even though he knows she’s used to this, he knows it still hurts her, every time.

He’s practically growling, his hands clenched into fists as the friend chimes in. “C’mon man. We’ve been looking for a good time for days!” 

Hera rolls her eyes, taking another sip of her drink and sighing. “Ignore them,” she mutters as she takes in Kanan’s thunderous expression and rigid posture. 

He takes his cues from her, clamping down on his own anger as he hears the continued volley of loud comments from the men across the bar. They’re eyeing Hera like a piece of meat, but he’s only looking at her as he says, “How do you want to play this?”

Hera grimaces. “Let’s just get out of here. This handoff is a bust anyway. Contact probably got spooked.” Then she smirks at him, though it doesn’t reach her eyes. “Don’t do anything stupid, hotshot.” 

“No promises,” he growls, already picturing the sound the man’s nose will make when his fist connects.  _ Best not. Hera wouldn’t like it.  _ He sighs. The mental picture would have to be enough.

They stand up, making their way to the cantina’s exit. Kanan tosses a few credits on their table to pay for the drinks, and he’s still on edge as they walk past the bar.  _ Almost there.  _ Punching these guys would be  _ utterly _ satisfying, but he’s following Hera’s lead. He has a feeling starting a fight would qualify as “doing something stupid.” 

Then, one of the men puts his  _ hands on her,  _ and all bets are off. 

The dark-haired human grabs Hera’s arm  _ hard _ , trying to tug her bodily towards him, and Kanan’s moving before he even registers it. He’s lightning fast, old reflexes from a past life kicking in as his fists connect. There’s a grunt and a sickening  _ crunch _ as the man goes down, one hand holding his gut and the other clutching his now-broken nose. 

Kanan’s  _ seething,  _ his entire body shaking with barely-restrained fury; this is the first time he’s actually witnessed someone get physically handsy with Hera, and he’s seeing red.

The other two get up now, moving to defend their fallen friend. Kanan suspects they’re none too bright as one of them swings a wild right hook at his head that he sidesteps easily. Kanan’s about to kick his legs out from under him when he has to swerve to avoid a barstool hurtling towards him. He picks his head up just in time to see Hera aiming a well-placed left cross at the third man, and  _ oh, that has no right to be as sexy as it is,  _ he thinks. Watching Hera fight never fails to send shivers straight down his spine. He stands there slack-jawed for a moment as Hera dispatches the sleemo with ease, before she turns and yells, “Kanan, behind you!” 

Kanan doesn’t even have to turn; he can sense his dance partner coming back for seconds, and he sidesteps, extending his arm outward to clothesline the man. He goes down hard, and doesn’t get back up. 

He’s breathing hard, still bursting with adrenaline and rage, but as he turns back to Hera, the rage is overwhelmed by concern. She’s rubbing her arm, wincing, and Kanan’s immediately at her side, his hands coming up to touch her and flailing as he thinks better of it. “Are you okay?”

She nods, but he can’t help but scrutinize her face, looking for any sign that indicates she’s in pain. “Fine. This’ll probably bruise, but I’ll live,” she grumbles, and Kanan is overwhelmed with the urge to punch someone again.

“C’mon. Let’s go home.” Kanan wraps an arm around her shoulders, tucking her against his side as they exit the cantina. The bartender watches them go with an angry look, and Kanan breathes a sigh of relief as they hit the open air. 

Hera’s quiet as they start making the short walk back to the ship, and he worries that she’s more hurt than she let on. After a few minutes, he glances down at her face. It’s more impassive than usual, and he nudges her until she looks up at him. 

“You sure you’re alright?” he mutters. He can see the  _ Ghost _ in the distance.

Hera nods. But then, after a beat, she says, “I told you not to do anything stupid.” 

Kanan stares at her. “Hera, he  _ grabbed you. _ ” 

“Not the first time.” Her voice is quiet, her face angled towards the floor again. Kanan feels her emotions wash over him; she’s vulnerable, insecure in a way that she rarely shows, even around him. 

He pulls her closer, wanting to take that look off her face. “First time I was there,” he says darkly. 

“I can take care of myself.” She glances up at him again, and the fire in her eyes is back, but subdued. 

“I know that.” Of course he knows that– he’s seen what she can do, and it’s part of what he likes so much about her. But– “Doesn’t mean I’m going to stand there and let some sleemo push you around.”

They’re back at the  _ Ghost  _ now, and he sees the exit ramp extend to let them back on board. They don’t say anything more for a while, as they make their way back onto the ship. Kanan heads to his quarters and grabs the medkit he keeps there as Hera heads to her bunk. He follows her in, watching as she strips off the jacket she was wearing. 

Kanan sucks in a breath as he sees the beginnings of what will definitely become a nasty bruise on her arm. Hera sees him looking, and wordlessly gestures for him to sit down next to her as she settles on her bed. He still doesn’t say anything as he pulls out a bacta patch, applying it as gently as possible before wrapping her arm in a bandage. 

When he’s done, he puts the medkit on the floor, then wraps an arm around her before she can pull away. He pulls her close, leaning his forehead against hers. 

“Thank you,” Hera mutters. 

“I’m sorry,” he replies, tightening his grip. “I tried really hard  _ not _ to punch him.” 

She laughs, pulling back to smile at him. “I know you did. I could see the vein throbbing in your forehead.” 

He chuckles, but there’s no real mirth in it. He can feel the subtle waves of hurt rolling off of her, and he  _ hates _ them. Hera’s always so strong, and these feelings feel so  _ wrong _ on her. 

Kanan presses one hand to her face, running his thumb across her cheek. “I’m sorry they said those things,” he murmurs, leaning back in. “I’m sorry you have to deal with that all the time.” 

Hera sighs, reaching to grab his other hand. “It’s not usually that… overt.” She grimaces. “It was sweet of you to do that. Stupid, but sweet.” There’s something like awe in her eyes now, like she can’t quite believe that he punched the guy. And Kanan wants to laugh, because there’s no limit to the amount of people he would punch if Hera Syndulla asked him to.

But instead he says, “That’s my sweet spot.” 

She chuckles, smirking at him. “If you hadn’t punched him, I would have.” 

Then he laughs, a real, full one, pressing his lips against hers softly. It only lasts a second, but he feels the familiar punch of emotion hit him hard. “ _ There  _ she is,” he says, smiling against her lips. “There’s the rebel I know.” 

For a few minutes they sit in silence, both of them seemingly just enjoying the other’s presence. Kanan will fuss over her in the morning, making sure that bruise doesn’t blossom into something worse. But for now, she pushes him off of her as she moves to grab her sleep clothes, changing quickly before joining him on her bunk again. 

He strips down to his basics, lying back and pulling her against him again. Hera’s head settles on his chest and her fingers intertwine with his. 

This is also new, their ability to lie in comfortable silence like this. It’s a level of intimacy that Kanan’s still not used to, but one that he’s rapidly becoming a very big fan of. 

He thinks Hera may have fallen asleep, the events of the evening catching up with her, but eventually she speaks again. “I’m glad you were there.” Her words were barely above a whisper. “Three of them would have been a bit much, even for me.” She says it like it’s a joke, but between her words he can hear everything she’s not saying.  _ Thank you for standing up for me. That doesn’t happen often. I’m so used to being alone in those situations. _

There’s a lot that he wants to say, a lot that he  _ could _ say, but instead he presses a lingering kiss to her forehead, squeezing her hand and trying to convey everything he was thinking through touch.  _ You don’t have to deal with this on your own. That’s what a partner is for. I’ll always be there. _

He chuckles. “You just say the word, Hera Syndulla, and I’ll back you up in any bar fight.  _ Happily.” _


End file.
